French Desires, English annoyance
by Ember Hinote
Summary: France and Paris have been wishing for the same thing for the longest time: to have their English lovers back into their lives. But this year, they plan on winning back their lovers no matter what...even if they have to resort to stalker tendencies to do so. How will England and London make it through the year with the ever persistant Frenchmen out for their affection?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape, or form.**

* * *

France was laughing and celebrating with Paris as well as his people as the New Year began. This year, unfortunately, there wasn't a conference to be hosted during the New Year so everybody was celebrating and doing their own celebrations. He and Paris watch as the Eifel Tower was lit in a spectacular light show as well as the fireworks display happening overhead.

"What do you hope for this coming year?" asked France as he and Paris were making their way home from the celebrations.

"To find a lover for the year," answered Paris with a sigh, "unlike last year where Londres rejected me again and the crazy girlfriend did not help…."

France chuckled as he ruffled his younger brother's hair, "Don't dwell on that girl too much as well as little Londres, she's just a stubborn one like her brother."

Paris was silent for a second as he thought it over. Every year for the past century, he had wished for the same thing, for Londres to be his again like how it was several centuries back. It wasn't his fault that Londres broke it off, though…he still didn't know why Londres had broken up with him then. They had been doing so well together until something happened, he couldn't remember what though, that caused his Londres to become distraught and ended it in 1800. He wished for the days where he and Londres could walk together without her hating him in some way and when she would look at him lovingly. But sadly, those days hadn't made a reappearance.

"But what about you France?" asked Paris causing his brother to look over at him, "What did you wish for?"

It was France's turn to sigh now, "For Angleterre to be back to how he was all those years ago so that we could be together again. I wished for the days we were together."

"The English," says Paris, "they are cruel to our hearts aren't they?"

France nods, "Oui, they are." But a smirk soon appears on his face as a thought comes to mind.

"Grand Frère, what is it?" He was worried about why his brother's face was twisted like that.

"How about this year," France looks towards the sky, "We make those wishes come true." He looks back over at Paris, "This year, we make Angleterre and Londres ours again."

Paris blinks in surprise to his brother's statement before the idea fully seeps into his brain. With both Frenchmen, the English siblings wouldn't be able to resist them. Londres would be his again and Angleterre would be his brother's. Paris looked up towards the sky and smiled happily. Yes, this year was going to be the year that he would have Londres back.

* * *

England and London were enjoying the fireworks display alongside their people. It had been quite an exciting year for the both of them from the stress of London being away for part of the year, to the Diamond Jubilee, to the Olympics, to the Paralympics. It would have been hell to have to go back to England's house after the show with the number of people there with them but luckily her majesty had allowed them to stay at the Palace to avoid all the traffic.

"A spectacular show as usual," says England as he and London make their way towards the Palace.

"Got that right," cheers London, "I hope 2013 will be just as awesome as 2012! I mean, we got to show the world how undeniably awesome we were!"

England chuckles, "Almost 947 years and you still sound like Prussia sometimes, what am I going to do with you?"

"I don't know, but Big Brother," the adrenaline rush had started to fade from her system, "what did you wish for this year?"

England pauses in his laughing to actually think about the question. He hadn't even thought about what he wanted for the year.

"I'm actually not sure Rowena, what did you wish for?"

"Same," shrugs the girl, she turns her gaze up towards the sky, "Maybe another awesome year, possibly?"

"Uh Rowena…."

"Yeah an awesome year would be just totally awesome…."

"London."

"But awesome just has to be the theme for this year…."

"LONDON!" shouted England.

"WHA –OW!" Why did she always forget about that lamppost?

England bursts into laughter as London sits back up and rubs the spot on her forehead where she collided with the lamppost.

"I think it's better off if you wish to remember that lamppost for next year," chuckles England.

"Aw shut up Big Brother!"

* * *

**Hi everybody out there on the interweb reading this! Happy New Year! I know the whole second portion is unnecessary but for some odd reason, my brain just wouldn't let me post this story without it. Yeah...out of curiousity, are there random lampposts in London that your can walk into when you're not paying attention? I know there are a ton where I live and I'm that much of an idiot to walk into them.**

**Also, any of you out there speak German, French, or honest to goodness American English? This author fails at speaking these languages often so she might need some help later on in the story. Yes I admit it! I'm that much of an idiot that I fail to speak American English when I am American! **

**Please review, I promise you, if you've read Chibi America's letter writing story, you'll be finding a much more expanded version of a certain topic that I pre-wrote there. **


	2. Chapter 2

******Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape, or form.**

******Wow, I am honestly, very suprised at how well receieved this was. You all wouldn't believe the looks on my parents' faces when I fell out off my favourite sofa after checking on this story. For the first time ever, when I checked the visitor countries for this particular story, it went: United Kingdom, United States, Canada, and France. I LOVE YOU GUYS! Also the other countries who I usualy do not see such as Isle of Mann, Norway, Hong Kong, Italy, Germany, Finland, Sweden, and Australia. I LOVE YOU GUYS TOO!**

******Back from loving the world, I am now loving my reviewers: The Black Dove Flyeth (You are awesome and once I need some major American slang, you will be hearing from me and I've been told by my English teachers in the past, I write like I'm in the 1800s), WildCitrusSunflower (Thank you, I am so glad that you like this! Happy New Years Week to you too!), N and S and F (I'm trying, and don't worry too much about the emoticon), and most importantly Kignon who helped me with the French translation. **

******Also to everybody who favourited and put this story on alert, I love you all just as much as I love my reviewers. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

The G8 meeting was the Wednesday after the New Year. With the New Year, came new hope for solving world problems.

"Happy New Year Britain!" called America as he and his capitals spotted the two English folk walking towards the meeting house. This time it was in France.

"Happy New Year America," answers England as two boys raced past him to tackle his capital to the ground, "That never gets old does it?"

America just shakes his head and laughs as he and England begin to chat. London, she knew that she should have expected such an act by her two most easily excitable students but every year, it just snuck up on her. She had just been minding her own business when two heavy objects hit her and she found herself on her back with two Americans hugging her.

"Good morning New York, D.C," she chuckles as she begins to push the boys off of her to sit up, "Happy New Year lads."

"Happy New Year Londie!" The Americans answer, excitedly.

"You wouldn't believe how awesome Yorkie's fireworks were," says D.C, "And the ball drop this year was totally awesome!"

"Yeah!" adds New York, "You and Britain totally should have been there! It would have been a blast!"

"Maybe next year you two," London pats both on the head.

New York and D.C helped their mentor to her feet and followed after their brothers as they made their way into the building. They were all eager for the first meeting of the year as they really did need to get down to business. The three were just admiring some of the artwork as they waited for the meeting to begin when a cough caused them to turn around.

"Bonjour mes amis (Good morning my friends)," says Paris cheerfully as he pulls out a red rose from behind his back and holds it in front of the English capital, "Tiens Londres, c'est pour toi (Here London, this is for you)."

Being caught off guard, London was just a little shocked, "Uh, thank you Paris," she accepted the rose before sniffing it and smiling at the familiar aroma, "It's lovely, thank you Paris."

Paris felt his heart thumping inside his chest when he saw the smile. How long has it been since he seen Londres smile at him like that? Was it getting warmer in the room? Oh dear, was his face turning red, why was Londres, New York, and D.C looking at him like that?

"Are you feeling alright mate?" asked London as she placed the back of her hand on his forehead, "You're face is red but you don't feel warm."

Paris immediately pulls away and laughs nervously as London, New York, and D.C were looking at him oddly. London looks at her hand weirdly as if there had been something there that had caused him to pull away. Had she done something wrong to the Frenchman?

"Je vais bien Londres (I'm fine London)," he chuckles, "Tu n'as pas besoin de trop t'inquiéter pour moi (There is no need for you to worry too much about me)."

London just nods and walks off with New York and D.C as they had spotted Milan, Berlin, and Tokyo coming up to the building and they wanted to wish their friends a Happy New Year. Paris sighed as he watches her hurry off without a second thought towards him. Was it just that easy to brush him off like that? Was that really what had become of their past? Just a fleeting memory that London just seemed to ignore?

Paris sighed as he began to wonder, did London ever wish that they could be together and in love again? Did she ever think about their past relationship? Did she ever wonder if they could be like that again? Did she ever wish on New Years that she could be his again?

* * *

France held the bouquet tightly as he watched America and England speaking. They seemed to be engrossed in their conversation but he noticed something, they were not arguing like they usually did. Instead, they seemed to be at peace which was odd for the two. They were laughing, smiling and speaking peacefully with each other.

It wasn't as if he was jealous of the American. _Why would __**he**__ be jealous of a loud mouth, obese, and very stupid American?_ Sure the American had a "special relationship" with the Englishman but that didn't mean anything. Oh great, now they were laughing with each other? Why couldn't England be that way with him anymore?

"Bonjour Angleterre (Hello England)," greets France cheerfully has he held his present to the Brit behind his back, "Comment vas-tu ce matin (And how are you this morning)?"

"Oh," England looks towards the country of love in surprise, "Good morning France, all right, and yourself?"

"Haha, good morning France," laughs America with a grin, "You almost forgot about the hero!"

"Je vais bien (I am well)," France smiles at the Englishman good naturedly before scowling over at America, "I wasn't speaking to you America."

England raised a brow curiously. Usually America and France were on good terms with each other.

"Are you feeling alright France?" he asked.

"Je vais bien (Oh I am fine)," answered France before scowling towards the Englishman's partner, "I am just not in ze mood to deal wiz loud Americans zis early in ze morning."

America frowned and gave the Frenchman a calculating stare. "I'll see ya around British dude," He gives England and France a slight nod before walking over to Germany, Italy, and Japan, "Hey dudes!" he calls out eagerly, "Guten Morgen, Buon Giorno, Ohaiyo Gozaimas!"

Once America left, England's smile immediately became a frown as he glared at France. France however, was only surprised by look. What did he ever do to upset England?

"You didn't have to be so rude to him," spat the Englishman, "What did America do to make you so mad?"

"Je voulais juste te parler (I just wanted to speak to you)," pleaded France, "Angleterre-"

"Save it frog," England turned on his heels, "I don't want to hear it."

France watched as England walked away. He reached a hand towards him to only see England glare back at him before joining America alongside Germany, Italy, and Japan. Why did everything he do now just seem to anger his beloved Englishman? What did he ever do to get on England's bad side?

* * *

**Hello you all reading this on the interweb! I hope I did not insult anyone this chapter...I apologize if I did! Kignon was Prussia Awesome though and did the French translation for me! Thank them! All I need now is for someone to assist me with German translations. Why? How I write London is based on the Teutonic Colony of Ludenwic which I read was in the same area as the Roman Empire's Londinum. Plus there is going to be appearences from Konigsberg/Leipzig (Not historically accurate), Berlin, Germany, and Prussia so I want correct translations there as wells as London starts speaking random German.**

**Also in my head cannon, England _CAN_(!) cook and very well! London just fails...at English cooking that is. NO OFFENSE TO LONDONERS! I LOVE YOU GUYS AS I HAVE FRIENDS WHO LIVE THERE! ...Are there any Laotians in London? If there are, Sabai Dee~!**

**Please review, I love hearing from you all and it actually helps me write. Until next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA!**

**I want to apologize for not updating as quickly as I would have like. France is just really hard for me to write. Well, that and I actually started doing well in my AP Biology class, I love that class but it's a killer to my GPA. But none of that, I love to thank everyone who has read, favourited, or put this story on alert. Seeing those emails make me smile. **

**I would love to thank my reviewers: WildCitrusSunflower and Scootaboo11. You two are awesome!**

* * *

"So London," says Paris as he strode over to English capital who was packing her briefcase, "I was wonder if you would like to go out to dinner with me?"

But London just seemed to ignore him and continued to pack her briefcase as if he hadn't said anything at all. He was a little bit miffed, London usually didn't ignore people. Was she purposely doing this to him? Paris tapped London on the shoulder and almost immediately the girl jumped.

"Huh?" London looked up from her packing and removed a pair of lime green, jelly bean shaped ear bud from her ears, "Sorry there Paris, I didn't hear you." She grinned over at the Parisian, "What did you need?"

Paris felt all the blood drain away from his face. He had worked up all his confidence to just say it once, _AND IN ENGLISH!_ Why didn't he notice that she had ear buds in and that most likely she was listening to that screaming guitar and shouting that she called music. He still wondered when her taste in music started to deteriorate; maybe that was why he needed to have her again? She needed better music and if they were in a relationship, then he'd be able to convince her away from that idiotic screaming!

"I was hoping that we could maybe go to," his mouth went dry and his throat clenched.

London looked at her friend expectantly. She checked her pocket watch and her eyes became the size of dinner plates. She was late! This wasn't good, being late usually meant a third degree tongue lashing; a shiver ran up her spine upon memory. Her brother was scary when he wanted to be.

"Look Paris, I have to go," London lifted her briefcase off the table and started for the door.

"I-I-I"

London looked at him with a bored expression and took a peek at her pocket watch. She couldn't let this drag out any further. Her brother had been rather strict about punctuality as of late and he would not let it go if she were to be late. Paris was taking up too much of her time and she was not one for patience when she had a deadline.

"Paris, hurry it up if you need something," she said in a clipped tone, "Because I hardly even have 10 minutes."

Paris's throat clenched on him even more and he could feel the blood starting to rush to his face. He really needed to say what he needed to say but why couldn't he? London had put down her briefcase and her hands were at her hips. Two minutes passed, Paris was still unable to say a thing.

"Goodbye Paris." London picked up her briefcase and raced out of the room. She didn't have time for stuttering Parisians when there was the threat of a deadline.

Paris looked at the door dejectedly and released a heavy sigh. Why had it been so difficult for him to speak to her? He had an elaborate plan to woo her but he just couldn't say it.

* * *

France watched as England spoke with America and Canada. They seemed to be enjoying their conversation and England was even smiling. It was rare for the grumpy Englishman to smile for anything, but this smile caused France to frown. Why couldn't Angleterre smile at him like that? Why did the North Americans, though Canada was his exception, deserve such affection from the Englishman? He would have much preferred to have that affection directed towards him.

"Come on dude," says America, "let's get something to eat!"

"That does sound nice," whispers Canada with a nod of his head.

England grinned, "Why don't you boys join London and I for lunch?" he offered, "I am pretty sure that she wouldn't mind if you brought your capitals as well."

The North American twins looked at each other and nodded. It had been a while since they had gone out for a meal with England. Though the Englishman was getting to be a much better chef, they still didn't deem his food up to par yet. Besides, England also knew where some of the best restaurants were in just about every nation. It was as if the man was drawn towards good food like a fish on a line.

"Sure," answered America, "You bet we're going!"

"We'd love to join you," adds Canada politely.

"Wonderful, I'll call a car while you boys go fetch the capitals."

America and Canada hurried off to fetch D.C, New York, Ottawa, and London, leaving the Englishman alone. France smirked upon seeing the opportunity in front of him. He sauntered up to the Englishman as he was removing his mobile from the pocket of his suit. England was about to make the call when a hand soon landed on his waist.

"What is it you frog," groans England in annoyance as he swats the hand away while taking a step to the left.

"I 'eard zat you are going out to eat wiz America and Canada," he said, taking a step towards the Englishman.

"And what of it," snapped England, he was really not liking how close the Frenchman was to his person.

"I was wondering if you would like if I took you all to ze best restaurant in Paris," France grinned, "My treat."

England blinked in surprise to the Frenchman's comment. It was rather unusual for France to make that sort of offer to him. They were typically only arguing, speaking pleasantly on when they were forced to do so. But today, France had been oddly pleasant around him. England wasn't sure how he should react to such treatment from the Frenchman, but he knew one thing, he needed to proceed with caution in case this was one of France's tricks.

"All right then," says England and he slipped the phone back into his pocket, "This is _your_ country anyways."

France grinned upon hearing the Englishman agree. This would benefit both him and Paris. During the meal, they could charm the English siblings. When England was looking away, France smirked. By the end of the meal, they would have their lovers back in their arms.

* * *

**If anybody can point me in the direction of something for me to read to actually understand France, that would be lovely! I really want to get in the feel of France as I currently think I'm actually just grazing him with a stick at the moment. **

**I apologize for the delay, as you've read earlier, I've been a bit stuck and busy. Finals are also coming up. But that won't stop me from attempting to write another chapter for this week!**

******Please review, I love hearing from you all and it actually helps me write. Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA!**

**Hello again~! Just want to start off with, no, I haven't died. But I will admit to having no control over my impulsive thoughts after finals. Also, if there is any major delay in me updating this story, you can guess that most likely I am either studying, researching random things (i.e. the history of fish and chips), or drowning in homework. **

**I would also love to thank my reviewers: Chibi America, WildCitrusSunflower, and ****alonesong. You all are awesome and so is everybody who is reading this story! Oh and I want to say Thank you to Kignon who helped me with the French translations!**

* * *

The restaurant was one of the classical ones shown in old Hollywood films. The walls were painted with beautiful views of coastlines and angels. The seats were crafted from elegantly carved wood and good leather padding. White table linens stood out against the darker floor like puffy white clouds. Windows were opened with natural light flooding the room, sunrays being bounced off of the crystal chandeliers causing a spectacular display.

"Alors (So)," says Paris as he pulls out a seat for his female British counterpart, "Qu'en penses-tu (what do you think)?"

"C'est plutôt pas mal (It's rather nice)," answers London appreciatively as she peeks at the room from the corners of her eyes, "Je dois admettre que tu as d'excellent goûts _Damien_ (I will admit that you have excellent taste _Damien)_."

Paris's Brandeis blue eyes lit up at the sound of his human name. It was one thing when the Brit was addressing him as such when they were at school but for her to call him that at an occasion such as this, it had been unheard of in over 213 years! She hadn't called him by his human name since they were dating. Even now, when they were dining together after a day of meetings, London would address him as Paris and never as Damien.

"U-uh," he stammered as his heart began to pick up speed, "Merci _Rowena_ (Thank you _Rowena)_."

London merely nodded and smiled towards him before turning her attention back over to the Canadian and American capitals who were joining them for the meal. Paris sighed as rested his chin in the palm of his hand with his elbow on the table, even though it was still considered bad form today. He addressing London by her human name of Rowena was a common practice. He honestly preferred to address her as Rowena, or even by the name Roswitha, a name she had not used since her time as a Teutonic/Prussian colony. London was often much too formal and stiff for his taste.

He watched as they dined. Every now and then, he and Rowena would speak with each other in his brother's language, fully ignoring _her_ brother's insistence that she speak _his_ language. Those conversations were meant for her to laugh, and laugh she did. Or more like giggle at his failed attempts at the Rosbif's dry humour. Though she could hold her liquor better than her brother and his relations, the wine that Paris had requested for them had gotten the usually tightly wound Brit to loosen up and relax a bit. Paris couldn't help but smile when he saw Rowena chiding Ottawa over the boy's manners, or lack of them at points, in _his own_ standard of the French language.

"Alors, est-ce que tu es occupé ces derniers-temps (So have you been busy lately?)" He asked curiously, leaning closer to the girl sitting across from him. His wrist was swirling his glass of red wine to calm his nerves.

London raised a brow upon hearing the question and shook her head. "Non (No)," she replied, a bit confused, "Pourquoi me demandes-tu ça (Why do you ask)?"

Paris smirks as he leans in closer to the female Brit, his face near her ear. "Je me demandais si tu pouvais sortir avec moi (I was wondering if you could go on a date)." London froze. "Tu sais, comme au bon vieux temps quand on était ensemble (You know, like old times when we were together)."

London immediately pushed back in her seat and was to her feet. She ignored the surprised looks she was getting from the rest of the table as a shocked look spread across her face. It was Paris's turn to raise a brow now; he wasn't expecting such a reaction from London.

"Tu n'as pas à me répondre immédiatement (You don't have to answer me immediately)," Paris flipped his hair, which he had kept down like his brother, "Je veux juste savoir pour que je puisse (I just want to know so that I can) —" A slapping sound soon resonated throughout the room and his cheek began to sting. The French teen looked over at the female Brit in surprise as she was glaring at him instead of melting.

"Nicht in Ihrem Leben (Not in your life)." Her speech was cold and clipped as she made her way out of the restaurant.

* * *

England was admiring the restaurant's decorations as he walked in with the Frog. He attempted to be discreet about it as he did not want the Frog to know that he approved, or even liked, the restaurant. But even he had to admit, even if it was something of the Frog, if it was something worth looking at, he would praise it.

"This is a rather nice restaurant Frog," commented England as he let his eyes wander about the room, "Whose idea was it for a place like this, yours or Paris's?"

France chuckles, "Tu ne vas jamais me prendre au sérieux Angleterre (You aren't going to give me any credit England)?"

"The boy has better taste than you do," retorted the Englishman as he lifted his chin and took his seat the table between London and America.

France kept his eyes carefully trained upon the Englishman. He could tell that even though Arthur was relaxing, he was still rather tensed for some odd reason. France didn't understand why England could be tense. His lover should relax as this was not a time of constant warfare as before. There was no need for England to be on guard. They were all safe.

"Pourquoi tu ne te relaxes pas Arthur (Why don't you relax Arthur)?" he asked, calling England by his human name.

England looked at France in shock. England only allowed those he trusted, mainly his family and bosses, to address him as such. He hadn't allowed France to address him as such ever since America and Canada were colonies. He gave the Frenchman a calculating look, he didn't know what game France was playing by addressing him as Arthur but he did know that he had not allowed France to address him as such just yet.

"What are you playing at Frog," hissed England suspiciously, he didn't want to participate in any of France's boring games unless he had to.

"Quoique tu puisse dire (Whatever you say Arthur)?" asked France innocently.

"You understand perfectly what I mean France," retorted England, "I have not allowed you to address me as Arthur."

"Ne soit pas comme ça Arthur (Don't be like that Arthur)."

"Oh shut up you damned frog!"

France sighed as he watched as Arthur continued to observe the room. He didn't see exactly why the Englishman was so fond of the interior. This restaurant was not as beautifully decorated as others he had been to but it seemed to have latched onto the Englishman's attention rather quickly. As long as he and Arthur were not arguing, all was well and that was how he enjoyed it.

England scowled as he heard his sister, his capital, speaking to the Frog's brother in the Frog's language. It was not like he did not want her to grow familiar with the language, it was just that hearing her speak French brought up memories he would have preferred to keep dormant. Memories of when he and _that Frog_ were in an actual relationship and when he was actually happy being with the Frog.

But those memories were now something he hated. Those were memories were reminders of the mistake he had made. They were reminders of when he trusted the Frog, of how close he had let the Frenchman be to him, of what it was like to give your heart to someone in a romantic way. They were a reminder of what it felt like to have his heart ripped out of his chest, ripped apart, and stomped on.

The sound of slap brought England out of his musings to see London on her feet. He was slightly confused but judging by the position her hand was in, he was guessing that Paris had done something to upset her. He glared at the French teenager, just wondering what he had done to _his_ precious sister. England heard the crisp, clipped German roll off of London's tongue before she left the restaurant. He often forgot she could speak German sometimes, which had been a help to him when he was fighting against Germany. But what did she mean by not in her life?

* * *

Canada, America, D.C, New York, and Ottawa watched as the Europeans go about their business. They were caught off guard by England and France arguing over the use of his human name as well as London suddenly leaving. What had been happening?

"What just happened?" said D.C to Ottawa in confusion.

"I don't know," answered the Canadian as he recovered from his surprise, "But what I do know is that the English don't seem to like the French too much."

"I wonder why," whispered New York, caught between speaking with Paris and going after his former mentor.

"Hey America," whispers Canada over to his younger brother.

"Yeah?"

"Do you get this?"

America's lips pressed together to form a line as the American's expression became calculative.

"I don't know," he answered, "But I'm going to find out."


	5. Chapter 5

******DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA!**

******I would love to thank my **reviewers: WildCitrusSunflower and Chibi America, you two are awesome. I would also love to thank everybody reading, putting this story on alert and favouriting it! It makes my day when I see that people take interest in this though I do apologize for being very late this time. 

**Memories/some emphasis will be in _italics_. **

**Happy Valentine's Day/Lupercalia/Singles Awareness Day (except maybe South Korea since I found out there was an _actual_ singles awareness day there but still) everybody! Right now it is about 4:30 in the morning but hey, I had to make sure I was awake early enough so that it's still the February the 14th everywhere. I wish you all a very happy day filled with flowers and chocolate and all things that would make Paris and France happy!**

* * *

France sighed as he recalled the events that had occurred today. The meeting had started off rough with Angleterre hating him over the comments he had made of America's annoyingness. It was only by luck that he had been able to convince the Englishman to attend lunch with him, but only if America and Canada as well as their capitals were to join them. Then Angleterre's capital, Londres, had to go and strike his capital before storming out causing his love interest to worry. Finally, Angleterre had ignored all his attempts at wooing the stubborn Englishman into a date.

"What is wrong wiz zis picture," grumbled France as the day's events continued to replay in his mind. "Why couldn't 'e take a 'int?"

France desired the Englishman more than anything as he thought about their past of passion. His touch was as soft as the petals on a rose. His words as gentle were as a summer breeze. His smile was brighter than any star in the night sky or the sun altogether. His body was lithe and swayed like a willow in the wind. But most of all, the mere memory made France shudder, most of all, Angleterre's kiss was better than any wine out there. It brought France to his knees every time and it never ceased to bore him like the kisses of his other lovers.

England's kiss was a category all to its own. His lips were soft, like the clouds above or the young spring grass. It was sweet to the taste, hinting of rum but also of the jams the Englishman would use on his scones. The kiss was warm, like a hearth in the winter. England's kisses were perfection, a perfection that France had mourned when their relationship ended.

_France looked about the room, searching for a familiar face or just a face he would prefer to look at. There were beautiful women and handsome men as far as the eye could see but to his disdain, he hadn't found one that he would want to observe at close range. France sighed, maybe he should head home early, and it would be very simple to slip out if he tried. _

"_Looking bored are we now Frog face," teased a familiar voice, refusing to speak the language of the party goers as usual. _

_France turned his head to only grin at the voice's owner. Messy blonde hair, emeralds for eyes, thick eyebrows, and that nickname, it could only be one person. England grinned back at him, dressed in a sapphire colored waist coat and all the trimming with it. It did not matter if the man was a pirate in the sea; he was always a gentleman on land. _

"_It is nice seeing you 'ere Angleterre," chuckled France as he takes the Englishman's hand and kisses it as he would a lady's. _

"_You were the one who invited me," he retorted with a roll of his emerald eyes, "A gentleman never misses an engagement."_

"_Or so you say," murmured France as he grips his beloved's hand tighter, "come, we 'ave much to do."_

_The two men made their way out of the ballroom as discretely as they could possibly manage; escaping the passing glances of the guards who were making sure that all the guests remained in the ballroom. Once out, they hurried to the Frenchman's garden. It would be one of the best locations on a night like tonight with the moon full and the stars shining. _

_France's garden was a very impressive place. The flora and fauna were always perfectly kept and looking stunning. France watched as England run his hand along the rose bushes, ungloved fingers carefully avoiding thorns as to not spill blood on a night like tonight. The Englishman was perfectly relaxed whenever France brought him to the garden. _

"_Enjoying yourself Mon amour?" asked France as he came up behind his lover, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing small kisses up his neck and around his hairline. _

_His only reply was a pleasurable moan, urging him on. To say least, France complied._

France smiled fondly at the memory of his lover and his escapades; it was just that the garden was often the location of such as them both dearly loved roses. France loved them for their representation of loved. England adored them for they were his national flower and he was also an avid rose gardener.

There was only one stain that rested in his memories about his lover, his beloved Angleterre. The stain was crimson red, the very color of blood. The stain was that of Angleterre's military uniform.

"_You bastard!"_

_France dodged a rock that had been lobbed at his head. Standing before him was Angleterre, his lover, his beloved. France looked at the Englishman in surprise. It was not like him to attack him physically, especially with their relationship. Angleterre had not attacked him physically since it had began. _

"_You bastard!" England repeat as he fired off his musket at the Frenchman, barely missing him. Tears were forming at his eyes, whether for anger or something else, France wasn't sure. "How could you?!"_

"'_ow could I what?" asked France in confusion before England fired again._

"_How could you help him?" choked the Englishman, "How could you help him leave?"_

_France bit his tongue. No words he could say could possibly help patch the situation. His words would only worsen the Englishman's distress. So as a result, France stood there and took it as Angleterre continued to assault him with words until one phrase caught his attention._

"_Get out of my sight! __**WE ARE THROUGH!**__"_

'_Though?' France thought in shock. England couldn't possibly mean that! Sure they had been on the opposite side of battles before. Sure England had beat him numerous times as well. But ending their relationship over one war? Wasn't that a bit harsh?_

"_Angleterre," he began._

"_Save it Frog," choked England as he readied his musket once more and aimed, "What you have done is unforgivable."_

_There was a bang as the musket was fired and there was darkness as the bullet hit its intended target, not only wounding the body but also, wounding the heart. _

* * *

Paris rubbed his cheek as he lay in his bed, remembering what had happened and his love's biting words. He had never expected the British capital to have such a reaction to his request, nor did he expect her to hit him as hard as she did. Though the physical mark had long since faded, the sting to his pride was still widely felt and it tore him apart.

Paris was a man proud of his ability to have any lover he desired but Londres, she was different. It seemed as if she could just ignore his courting intentions or fight them off whereas others would succumb to his wooing after only one try. He guessed it was that that attracted him to her. She was a stubborn Brit but the chase only made him want her more. He knew she was very capable with love and romance if he played his cards right, he had seen it before in their previous relationship.

Their previous relationship, another sting to the French teen's pride. Usually he was the one to end a relationship but no. She was the one to end it. He never understood why she had though, especially with how distraught she was when she had ended it.

"_I-I'm sorry Damien," whispered a younger Londres, "I wish not to see you again."_

_Paris looked over from his favorite rosebush to where his lover was standing. Her hair was up in an elegant but and she wore a crimson gown. He frowned as one detail about his lover displeased him, it were the teardrops making their way down her face. He walked over and gently wiped them away with his gloved hand. _

"_Shh," he hushed, "Don't say such a thing my love." Londres pulled away with her back turned towards him as her body began to shudder with her silent sobs. "Rowena, Mon amour, what is troubling you? What is possibly making __**you**__ of all people so weepy?"_

"_Didn't you hear me before Damien," he heard, "I wish to end this between us."_

_His world stopped right there. Paris raced over and wrapped his arms around the English capital's waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder. That didn't make sense. Why would Rowena want to end their relationship, especially when they were so much in love? They hardly argued and he had halted his promiscuous ways when they had begun courting. When they were together, everything was perfect. It didn't matter who was there, they were just so much in love. _

"_Shh, you don't know what you are saying Rowena," he whispered into her ear. 'You can't be if you are saying something like that,' he thought._

_Rowena struggled out of his grip once more and faced him with tears streaming down her face. Her expression was one of anger but her eyes, those sparkling teal gems that he adored, betrayed her. Her eyes were filled with hurt, a hurt that he couldn't quite put his finger on but he knew. Paris's heart stopped, what was happening?_

"_I am ending this so called love between us!" he heard her shout. Her words were filled with anger and hurt._

"_Rowena," he choked._

"_Paris," her words were cold, "I no longer wish to court you. I wish to no longer be in any sort of relationship with you. I can no longer stand your bleeding promiscuity and I wish you dead for such! Goodbye you bloody frog!"_

_Paris watched as Londres left his garden, her head held high but the tears still trickling down. The next time he saw her was at Trafalgar Square where she stood in her blood red uniform and a musket pointed towards him. _

Paris shuddered at the memory. Londres had not given him any mercy during that battle. She had shoved aside her own soldiers just to get shot at him. She had stopped allowing him to visit the young New York, D.C., and Ottawa, the charges they were supposed to mentor together. Paris sighed as he stared up at the canopy of his bed. The Parisian only wanted to be back with his lover and, probably, the only one that made him feel as if he was in love.

_Damien Bonnefoy stood out in a grass field outside of his domain of Paris. The spring breeze of blowing his golden locks gently as he watches the clouds drift overhead. It was perfect and there was nothing that could make him anymore at ease at that moment. Well, maybe there was one thing that needed to join him. _

"_Damien," sang a gentle voice not too far from him, bring the French capital out of his daze. _

_He turned around to find the owner of the voice to only find a smiling, snow haired Briton walking over to him. _

"_Rowena," he answered with a smile as he held out his hand for her to take, "it is nice of you to join me on such a fine day."_

"_This day may only get better by being with you," she says, taking his hand as he swept her into his arms causing the girl to shriek and laugh. _

"_But it can only be perfect once you are with me," he whispered before leaning down into a soft, sweet kiss._

* * *

**_Happy Valentine's Day/Lupercalia/Singles Awareness Day! Glædelig Valentinsdag! fijne valentijnsdag! Buon San Valentino! Glücklichen Valentinstag! Día feliz de Valentinos! Selamat Hari Kasih Sayang! 情人节快乐! 情人節快樂! สุขสันต์ วัน วาเลนไทน์ (Yay, one I actually know!)! I apologize if any of this is wrong, I did an internet search. _**

**Please review, it help me have a Happy Valentine's Day. ^-^**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape, or form.**

**I would like to** **start off by apologizing to you all for the long wait. I needed some time to think about the direction that I wanted to take this story and actually plan it out unlike my other stories where I just write on the whim. But now that the planing portion is complete, you all should be seeing this story updated more frequently. **

**I would love to thank my reviewers: Scootaboo11 and WildCitrusSunflower. I also love all the people who have favourited this story and/or have added it to their alerts list. You are all awesome people!**

* * *

London sighed as she got off the jet with her elder brother, England. It was great to be back in their own domain after spending a week in France. It was a nice place but it didn't have the same charm that home did. The nippy weather in France and the sunny skies were okay but it just wasn't home. Besides, she had had enough of the Frenchmen.

"Something on your mind London?" asks England as they begin to load their suitcases into his car, a black Rolls Royce Phantom.

"Nothing really," She sighs, "Okay maybe something."

"And what could that be?"

"How annoying Frenchmen are."

England could only nod in agreement with the statement. During the entire conference, France had been acting entirely inappropriate with him. The other man's advances had increased as time passed and it had started to make the English gentleman rather uncomfortable. There was hardly a moment at the meeting when the France wasn't attempting to play footsie with him or attempting to touch him in some form of suggestive manner.

But this is what he didn't understand. Sure, in the past, the Frenchman would flirt with him and England was okay with that because it was how the Frenchman and always had been. But now, his new advances were much more aggressive and were not playful. It was if the Frenchman was trying to suggest something with him now rather than just trying to annoy him with his flirting.

But that was not the part that got to him most. He and London had gotten separate hotel rooms for the conference and he would find the oddest things in his room when he woke up and when he returned after a day of work. In the morning there would be blood colored roses with a romantic poem attached to the bouquet. In the evening, he would find that someone had drawn him a candlelit bubble bath with red rose petals in the water and a box of chocolates on his bed. During the day events of the conference, besides the suggestive moves and the footsie, he could never get France out of his sights. Always out of the corner of his eye, he would see the Frenchman watching him.

"I concur," England said as he got into the driver seat, London took the passenger side. "France's actions towards me have been rather…aggressive lately."

"So have Paris's," huffs London as she turned her attention to the passing streets as England drove.

Even after she had called him out at the restaurant, the Parisian would not let up on his advances towards her. During the conference, she and England had had separate hotel rooms, unlike normal where they would book a room with two beds. Every morning she would wake up and find a bouquet of crimson roses on the night stand with a love note from Paris. Every evening she would return to the room to find a second bouquet joining it with a second, more suggestive, love note accompanying the bouquet. During the day at the conference, no matter where she turned, she would see the Parisian out of the corner of her eye, watching her.

"There is something odd going about London," said England, as they were reaching their main home.

Contrary to popular belief amongst the nations, London and England did not reside within the Greater London county limits. The siblings lived in a beachside house in Hart, Hampshire. It was a rather comfortable place with a beach, large gardens, 2 stories, 8 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, 4 receptions rooms and plenty of space to relax and recover. The exterior looked rather wooden, brown with a shingled roof surrounded by large trees, rather down to earth. The interior was mostly hardwood floor, English Oak, but the bedrooms contained plush ivory carpeting and the conservatory had marble tiles. Every morning they would wake up and have breakfast in the conservatory and every evening they would eat dinner in the conservatory. A view of the beach was the best way to start and end the day.

After putting their bags away, London had taken to lying sprawled across the leather loveseat and flicking through the television channels for something interesting to watch while England was napping in the matching recliner with a novel he had been reading resting on his lap. They had arrived back to their home at around 6 in the morning and they didn't have to go back to work that day so might as well take the opportunity to relax while they could. Sometimes it was hard to remember what relaxation felt like after so many weeks of nonstop work.

"I'll be heading out now London," called England as he grabbed his coat."

"Alright Big Brother," answers London as she continues to click through the channel, "Have fun!"

"I'll be going down to the pubs, do you wish to join me?"

"Nein, I'm fine here."

"Alright, just don't burn down the house while I'm gone."

England smiled when he heard London chuckling. It was an old joke between them, a small crack at the capitol's inability to cook. Her domain may have had world class restaurants and gastro pubs but the girl was just not able to cook. She might have been able to do really well in chemistry but her cooking skills were horrible.

* * *

England was on his 5th drink, still fully sober when something started to not feel well. He swore that he could feel eyes on him. Someone was watching him, no, not just watching him. They weren't merely taking a peek at him because he was interesting. No, he recognized this feeling as one he hated.

He was being watched like prey.

England didn't like to be the prey for the majority of the time, he was the predator. But the feeling of being the prey was not unfamiliar with him. Ignoring such a feeling would not be a bright idea according to his past experiences. After a minute, he snapped around. There was nobody there, the pub was busy but there was nobody there strictly focused on him.

"Are you alright Mr. Kirkland?" asked the bartender in concern.

"Quite," drawled England as he paid his tab and made his way out.

His crimson trench coat was pulled tight around him as he attempted to calmly leave the area. Every now and then he would look around, making sure that no one was following him. Call England paranoid but right now, he had good reason to be. If whoever was following him was dangerous, then it was better if they were after him alone and not him and London. He would let them harm the both of them if only one of them were to be injured.

His nerves were on high alarm when whoever was following caused a twig to snap. The Englishman snapped around and was stunned when he saw France standing only 3 meters behind him with a predatory look on his face. It didn't take him long to put two and two together to figure out what had happened.

"Shite," he cursed before taking off in a dead sprint. This was his territory; he would have the home field advantage. France wouldn't stand a chance to him. If the Frenchman wanted to catch him, he could give chase around all the hidden nooks and crannies.

But due to several hundred years of practicing, France was fast. Surrender and retreat taught him to be quick on his feet. England wasn't used to either of those; he was used to destroying his enemies rather than running from them.

"Why do you run my love?" called France, "Don't you know I love you?"

"Don't you understand rejection damn frog!"

England couldn't run all night. He would call and tell London where he was later. Right now, he was his main priority and his only option out of this was magic. The farther he was from the frog, the better it was for him.

France watches as England disappears into thin air with a pop. The Frenchman stopped and growled when he saw that. Of course his lover would do this to him. Of course his lover would use his skill of magic to attempt escape. He was getting sick of England's little faerie games.

"Yo British dude," greeted America as he allowed an exhausted England into his living room, "What's up?"

"That Frog," gasped England in exhaustion, "That frog is a stalker!"

"France?" asked America in concern, he had seen how the Frenchman had acted around England during the conference and that had caused quite a few red flags to rise in his book.

"Who else?"

"You can stay here for a while bro," said America as he led England to a guest room, "We'll talk about it later."

"Thank you, America."

* * *

London was in the house's library with a murder mystery in hand when she felt a chill run up her spine. This wasn't the first time that this had happened. At first she had just ignored the chill, thinking that it was just because of the story but the chills continued and became more frequent as time went on. According to her pocket watch it was 9 at night; her brother should be coming home from the pub pretty soon.

"Might as well get ready for bed," she whispered as she lifted herself off the library's couch, "There is much work to get done tomorrow."

The majority of the home's lights were off at the moment. It was something London enjoyed doing whenever she was home alone. She would shut off the majority of the lights, only leaving the library and bedroom lit while she used a torch to navigate the house. One could say that she was a bit mad for doing so but she enjoyed the slight tingle of adrenaline that she got from it.

London turned off the lights to the library as she left the room and walked into the hall. The English capital carefully removed the torch from her pocket and clicked it on. The small amount of light emitted from the bulb of the torch was enough for her to see. London was carefully making her way through her home, whistling a silly little tune to herself. She could see nor hear anything wrong with the house.

That was, until she heard a tap.

The girl froze upon hearing the tap. It sounded as if it had come from one of the windows and immediately she flicked her wrist and allowed the wand hidden in her sleeve to slide into her hand. She knew using magic in front of normal humans was forbidden but if whoever the attempting intruder forced her to defend herself; she'll curse their sorry arse into the 26th Century.

"Hello?" she whispered, "who's there?"

She shut off her torch as she passed by a window. She didn't want anyone to know that she was there and carefully made her way past it. Another tap was heard and London dived behind one of the sitting room chairs. She carefully peeked her head out from behind the chair to peek at the window to see that there was no one there.

"Come on London," she whispered, "you're getting much too paranoid for your own good." Another tap was heard and the female capital nearly screamed in fright. "Oh second thought," she continued, "apparating to your room doesn't sound like a bad idea."

So she did. London appeared inside her lit bedroom with a light pop and peered out the second floor window with her body pressed against the wall. She wanted to know who was attempting to get into the house without them knowing that she was there. She craned her neck to get a better look and to her surprise, she saw it was that damn Parisian.

London watched as Paris attempted to open one of the conservatory windows. So bothering her in his ward wasn't enough was it? Making creepy advances in his own territory wasn't enough? He wanted to scare her on her brother's now? London narrowed her eyes at the Parisian. She hated him.

It didn't take long for London to set up her security charms. It didn't take long for her to make sure that the house's security system was up and running. After her bath, she checked how Paris was doing, from what she could see, he was giving up. The blonde boy was walking away from the house, defeated. London smirked as she began to pull her curtains closed. At least with the security up, she would be able to get a good night's sleep.

Paris watched as London closed her curtains. He couldn't help but notice how pretty she looked in her nightwear, a white tank top and black cotton shorts with a black silk bathrobe atop it all. He wouldn't give up on his prize just yet. She wasn't the only one who had studied magic. Paris knew that once London was asleep, the security spells she had put up would weaken and he could easily get in.

* * *

**Please review, I love hearing from everyone and it gives me inspiration.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape, or form.**

**I apologize if I insult any French people in this chapter, you all are awesome people. I have some friends who live in France. I also apologize to any German people for having to Google Translate your language. **

* * *

"BRITISH DUDE!" England sat up bolt straight when he heard the shout. What could America want right now? "BRITISH DUDE!"

The guest room door suddenly slammed open and England's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when he saw his younger brother _swimming_ in papers. Marriage Registration forms, if he wanted to be accurate.

"America," shouted England as he leapt out from bed and over to the American on the floor, "Good God, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," answered the American cheerfully as he bounced to his feet, "But seriously dude," America's face was filled with concern. "What's with all these Marriage Registration forms? I mean seriously! I knew you were popular but not _this_ popular!"

"They're from France," said England as he picked up several of the forms, "All of them."

"Seriously!? I thought you two hated each other."

England sighed. He forgot that America really didn't understand the relationship he had with France. Though, it wasn't the same relationship that he had had with the other European nation when America was his colony.

"It's a friend/hate relationship America," England explained with a sigh, "It's not necessarily all hate in our relationship. We're friends when we need to be."

"Ah, okay." America then rubbed his chin in thought. "But why does he want to marry you so much if it's a friend/hate relationship? I mean shouldn't he _not_ want to marry you because your relationship is that complicated?"

"And that is what's troubling me Alfred," sighed England, "I don't entirely understand it myself. My relationship with France hasn't been romantic ever since you…."

That topic was sensitive and neither nation wanted to speak of it. Though the split was for the best of both of them, it was still rather painful at times. But now, their relationship had improved. England was back to being America's elder brother again due to the "Special Relationship." It was strictly a fraternal relationship, nothing romantic about it. To over step that line was considered taboo by both nations though to those outside, they couldn't help but joke about it.

"Yeah," America huffed. "Why can't France just understand that you don't love him like that anymore?" America turned his head towards his brother. "I mean, from what I've seen, you're constantly pushing him away while he attempts to advance on you."

"As I've said before America, I don't know myself."

Both brothers sighed as they continued to watch the papers flood the American's home. More and more were getting in by the minute. Within the hour, from England's guess, the house would be completely filled with the ridiculous forms and it would be even harder to clean.

"So…" began America, "Do you want to help me clean this up?"

"Don't mind if I do."

* * *

London's heart was racing as she ran about the house. This was bad, very, very bad. How could she have forgotten that the Parisian had been a Beauxbaton student? How could she have forgotten that the idiotic Parisian knew magic in general? This wasn't good, for her at least, not good at all.

She had been getting dressed when she had heard the charms dissolving. London had only finished buttoning her work shirt and slipping on her pressed black slacks when she had to be on high alert, definitely not enough time to put on a tie. London bolted from her room and downstairs and into the conservatory when she found herself face to face with the Parisian.

"Why are you running Londres?" asked Paris with a grin. "It's not polite to run from your _lover_."

"Stupefy!" shouted London.

Paris quickly dodged the spell and watched as it shattered one of the conservatory windows. He had to admit, Londres's magic was impressive but he knew that she could do far better than that. When he turned back around, he found Londres running from him again.

"Locomotor Mortis!"

London felt her legs snap together and she tripped just as she was about to reach the stairs.

"Shite," she hissed angrily as Paris was slowly catching up to her. She pointed her wand to the ground in front of him, "Serpensortia!"

Paris jumped back when the snake flew from London's wand. London knew that the snake would give her enough of distraction as she did the counter curse for the leg locker curse that Paris had thrown at her. London watched as the snake pushes Paris back as she hopped back to her feet. This was her home, so she hoped for the advantage. However fate seemed to hate her at the moment. She watched as Paris kills the serpent and then she finally realized one thing, she should have started running.

"Come back my love," shouted Paris as London bolted up stairs.

"Impedimenta!" The spell hit the Parisian dead on, slowing him down and giving London enough time to make a decision to which room she should hide in.

Once he reached the top of the staircase, Paris looked around. His dear Londres was nowhere to be seen. He cursed; Londres had a good aim with her magic the majority of the time. He hated when the majority of the time was when he was after her. He had been to the English Kirklands' house before and he knew how it worked, bedrooms were on the second floor and there were plenty of them.

"How romantic Londres," he said loud enough for her to hear where ever she was. "Are you trying to get me to show you my tricks?" He laughed. "There is no need to run and all you needed to do was ask my love."

London was curled up in a darker corner of her closet. She had heard Paris's little proclamation and that was what made her worried. She knew that it wasn't very brave of her to run from a Frenchman but she wasn't an empire anymore. As much as she didn't want to admit, London knew that she wasn't as powerful as she once was anymore.

"_Hallo?_"

"_Vater_," whispered London into her mobile, "_Kannst du mich hören?_ (Can you hear me?)"

"_Ich kann dich hören _(I can hear you Lundenwic)," answered Prussia, his voice showed that he was concerned, "_Aber warum sind Sie flüstern? _(But why are you whispering?)"

"_Paris_," she could hear the French capital opening doors, "_Er brach in großen Bruder und mein Haus. _(He broke into Big Brother and my house.)" She could hear him advancing towards her room. "_Hilf mir, Papa! Ich habe Angst! _(Help me dad! I'm scared!)"

"_Mach dir keine Sorgen Schatz, ich werde es bald. Einfach auf versteckt zu halten. Papa wird es sehr bald sein. _(Don't worry treasure, I'll be there soon. Just keep on hiding. Daddy will be there very soon.)" And Prussia hung up.

But soon couldn't be soon enough for the English capital. She heard the room to her bedroom open and Paris's laughing. She could hear his footsteps as he approached her closet and nearly screamed as he practically tore one of the double doors off its hinges, revealing a trembling, terrified London.

"I found you Londres," he chuckled darkly as he grabbed the English capital and threw her on to the bed. "I found you my love."

London was frozen in fear as Paris climbed on top of her. She couldn't think it was as if her mind and body stopped working. She couldn't raise her wand. She could attempt to fight him off. She couldn't even start cursing at him. London was a trapped rabbit.

"_Runter von meiner Tochter du Bastard! _(GET OFF OF MY DAUGHTER YOU BASTARD!)"

London was frozen in place as she watched a black gloved hand reach over and throw the French capital off of her. She could hear angry German shouts and a Parisian running for his life. It wasn't until she had been pulled into a tight hug did reality seem to hit her again. She was shaking, crying and scared.

Prussia looked down at his daughter and couldn't help but frown. Only a hundred years ago did she threaten any man that tried to court her and now, she was just a trembling mess.

"_Es ist okay, Roswitha _(It's okay Roswitha)," he whispered, calling her the human name _he _given her, "_Vati ist hier und alles wird gut. _(Daddy's here and everything will be alright.)"


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own Hetalia. **

* * *

"Come on England," said America as he attempted to pull his elder brother figure off the door frame, "We promised Canada!"

"I don't want to speak to the Frog!" retorted England as he clung to the door frame.

"It was hard enough convincing Prussia to let London come," huffed America as he attempted to pull England off again, "But seriously! England we have to go!"

"No!"

America huffed in annoyance. If the Englishman wanted to play hard ball with him, then he would play hard ball. Mustering up all of his strength, he grabbed England around the waist and ripped the elder nation off of his doorframe and carried the angry nation away on his shoulder. England was kicking and screaming at his younger brother.

England was mixed. He wanted to confront France on what he was doing; he also wanted to rip Paris to pieces after what he heard from America. He was angry at the Frenchman for trying to impose his feeling on him. He wanted to also ask why the Frenchman was doing this to him. He was confused about why all of a sudden France was so aggressive in trying to capture his affection. England sighed as America drove; he was just tired of this whole mess.

"Are you okay England?" asked America causing the Englishman to look over in his direction.

"I'm just tired America," answered England, "I'm just tired."

"Now wasn't a good time for France to be doing all of this right?" America had to admit, he was very worried about his brother. He was used to seeing England tired and stressed but never this form of tired and stressed. England looked weary.

"It's never a good time," England sighed. "There is never a good time for anything America. You should know it by now."

"That's not necessarily true."

"America?"

"Yes England?"

"Please, just be quiet and let me think, alright poppet?"

It was America's turn to sigh now. He just wanted to keep on talking with England because whenever they spoke, it looked as if England was growing less and less stressed. He liked it when England was less stressed and tired, the British man was a lot more cheerful and a lot easier to work with.

* * *

"Ve have to go Lundenwic," said Prussia as he knocked on the door again, "You can't hide of this forever."

"I can try!"

"Lundenwic."

"I don't wanna go!"

Prussia sighed and just stared at the door. His little Lundenwic had been scared out of her wits by Paris and now she was refusing to leave her room. The leaving her room part was due to the fact they were supposed to be at a controlled meeting with France and Paris that America and Canada had set up. At first, he had been against it, seeing as how London was acting, but after a long conversation with America, he agreed.

"Come on Lundenwic," he tried once more, "Ve must not be late."

"Go away Vater," whispered London.

Prussia huffed in annoyance. He didn't want to have to do this but London was being stubborn and this would not do.

"Lundenwic Roswitha Vreni Beilschmidt," he said in his military tone. He swore he could hear his daughter whimpering at the tone. He knew it scared her. "_Sie erhalten von dort in diesem Augenblick oder so wahr mir Gott helfe, ich mache Sie bereuen! _(You will get out of there this instant or so help me god, I will make you regret it!)"

There was silence before the door opened and a terrified London walked out dressed in a Prussian blue pants suit with the Iron Cross on top of her black tie as how he told her to wear it. Prussia smiled when he saw that and ruffled London's hair.

"There now!" he bellowed cheerfully, "Not so bad, ja?"

"I still don't want to speak with them."

"And this is why I didn't give you the choice Liebling."

"…Just shut up dad…."

* * *

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. America and Prussia sat with England and London on one side of the table. Canada and Ottawa were seated with on the opposite side of the table with France and Paris. They were currently in one of America's White House offices, it being one of the neutral areas for nations to meet. It was an unspoken rule amongst them, the bosses work area was the neutral area, perfect for meetings.

"We'll leave you for to talk," said Canada with a smile as he, Ottawa, America and Canada left the room.

There was a heavy silence in the room. Neither side wanted to make the first move as it could ignite something that might run out of their control. Paris's eyes shifted between his brother, Angleterre and Londres. London was unconsciously scooting closer to her brother. England was glaring at France. France was looking straight at England.

"We don't want to be here all day so I'll start," began England.

"Oh, aren't you bold Angleterre," purred France.

"I MEAN IT!" shouted England as he slammed his palms down on to the table. "Now I want both of you two to quit bothering London and me!"

"Bothering?" asked Paris, "What do you mean by bothering?"

"You broke into our house and molested my sister!" retorted England, "You both are lucky that I don't outright kill you!"

"Angleterre, please," began France.

"Don't "Angleterre" me Frog," spat England, "I want both of you to keep away from ze both of us."

"And why should we do that?" asked Paris, "We both love you English people very much, so why should we keep away?"

"Because you're being very troublesome and annoying," whispered London, catching the attention of the men. They had thought that she wouldn't speak due to how much she had been clinging to both England and Prussia in fear. "What you have done is just annoying and troublesome. We all live busy lives and what you both have done has obstructed us from our work, making us all run behind schedule." She looked out from behind England's arm, glaring at the French men. "You both say that you love us, correct?"

They nodded.

"Then can you both quit being such a pain to my brother and me? That is all that we are requesting. We do not wish for the relationship between nations to be damaged but we would wish our personal ties are not ruined anymore than they have been as of recent." She said softly but firmly. "So may you both quit it with those advances?"

France and Paris looked between each other. London did make a point when she mentioned work. They had been so been distracted by their goal to woo their English lovers that they had forgotten about their work entirely. Their boss would not be happy once they got back but it was their own fault. They nodded with a silent agreement.

"Fine," answered Paris, "We'll stop everything but only on one condition."

"Name it?" hissed England.

"You and Londres," chuckled France, "'ave you go on one date with moi and Paris."

England and London looked at each other. It was only one date and then they would be free from the French menaces, right? They nodded between each other in silent agreement.

"Fine," said England, "We accept your condition."

France and Paris couldn't be any happier.

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**The next chapter will be the last. Please review, I love hearing from everybody. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape, or form.**

**I would love to thank those who have favourited this story: Bellflower's tale, CanadianShikigami, Chibi America, Gabrielle Crosszeria, Kignon, Nekoluv3r, PASTA300, Redthorne19, Salmay, Tammy251, The Black Dove Flyeth and wolfairer. **

**I would also love to thank those who put it on alert: Amazingtitlehere, Bellflower's tale, Chibi America, FluffyWhitePandas, Gabrielle Crosszeria, Jaina Padme Solo, Kaitou-Eileen, Kignon, MaliceArchangela, Mr or Ms Tanuki, N and S and F, Nobleteacup, PurrrpleLovah29, RavenWingsFly, Salmay, Tammy251, They Are Just Words, Zemmno, alonesong, ayanami-verloren, telemarker and wolfairer. **

**All of you are awesome and I would love to thank you all for yoru support. I would also love to thank all of my readers out there if you aren't on this list. I was able to complete this with all your encouragement. I hope you all enjoy this final chapter of "French Desires, English annoyance."**

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Paris looked around at the café Londres had taken him to. It was quant little place with a nice, homey feel to it. The café was in Londres's domain, right along the River Thames. Their table was outdoors, right next to the river that Londres was so fond of. And why shouldn't she be? She came to be alongside the river.

"Londres," he began.

"Hush," she whispered, placing a black gloved finger on his lips, "and listen."

Paris remained silent and pulled back from the finger. All he could hear was the chatter of the other café goers and the sounds of the tourist and city dwellers alike. He was confused, why would Londres want him to hear this? He looked at the English capital and saw her smiling peacefully with her eyes shut. She looked at peace.

"Londres," he whispered, "What am I supposed to be listening to?"

"The river," she said softly, opening her eyes slowly, "the sound of the river. Can't you hear it?"

Paris looked at his companion oddly before became silent once more. He could still hear all the chatter around him as well as the sounds of a city but there was something underneath it, the sound of slowly moving water. The sound was peaceful and calming. Was this what Londres wanted him to hear?

"Water is often used as a symbol of good health and purity in literature, Paris," whispered London, "Water represents life and can also be the symbol of change. Water may also be a means to cleanse one's self." He watched her take a sip of her tea. "But, I was only speaking was the pure waters. There is also the polluted."

Paris watched as Londres placed her tea cup back on its saucer. One minute it was clear and clean and the next, the tea was murky and dark. It looked disgusting. Paris wrinkled his nose and looked back at Londres who was staring off into the river.

"Polluted waters means risking one's health or if one is too late," she looked back towards him, "one's own end."

"What are you saying Londres?" he asked, "I don't follow you."

"Currently we are sitting near the non-tidal portion of the river Paris," she continued, "A slow flowing river is usually used to symbolize a steady calm."

"Can you just give me a straight answer Londres," asked Paris.

"But if we were to head up a bit towards the tidal portion," hissed Londres, "violent rivers are used to represent strength and often calamity."

Paris froze once he heard that.

"Paris Damien Bonnefoy," began London, "You and I were once courting several hundred years back, correct?"

"Oui."

"And I was the one to end our relationship, correct?"

"Oui."

London's expression was stern, as if she wasn't going accept any jokes. "Do you know why?" she asked.

"Non," he answered, shaking his head, "I don't understand why you had to end it. We were so good together, why did you have to end it?"

A server had come to their table and poured both "teenagers" a glass of red wine. They thanked their server and took the wine glasses in their hands.

"Paris," London twirled the glass in her hand, "Besides me, who else were you seeing romantically?"

"I wasn't seeing anybody!" retorted Paris.

London glared at him, "Oh really? Then let me see," London took a sip of her wine, "Does white hair and red and blue eyes mean anything to you?"

Paris froze upon hearing the description. It did sound familiar and it did help job his memory. It was true; he had seen someone other than Londres during their relationship. It was capitol closer to his age than Londres. He remembered her long white hair, her alluring red and blue eyes and those feminine curves. He remembered taking that mistress to bed many times while he was still seeing Londres.

"It does," he gulped.

"Paris," said London as she got to her feet, gesturing for a server to come over, "there are two things that I cannot take when I am in a relationship with someone." The server came over and London paid them off. "One would be promiscuity and the other would be trust."

"I don't understand," he began.

"Then do let me finish you frog," spat London, "When we were courting, I had trusted you entirely to not be promiscuous and to cheat on me. But what did you do?" Paris felt his blood run cold as London leaned over so that her lips were near his ear, "You went and cheated on me with the one girl who means the world to me, _meine Schwester, Königsberg _(my sister, Konigsberg)."

Paris reeled back just as London pulled away. No wonder Londres seemed to hate him once they broke up. When they were dating, he had been seeing the Prussian capitol on the side. He had forgotten that the Prussian woman was the English girl's elder sister.

"Auf Wiedersehen Paris," said London with a sweet smile on her face as she was walking away, "I wish thee well."

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"It is kind of you to join me here Angleterre," commented France as he smiled towards the Englishman in front of him.

"I guess this is nice," said England as he began to admire the interior of the restaurant.

France had taken him out to Lyon, his capital of gastronomy. England was well aware that whatever France had planned, it involved fine dining, something that he really didn't mind. So long as the Frenchman wouldn't bother him after this, he was okay with going out to dine with him. It would only be once after all.

England had to admit, he was impressed by what the Frenchman had done up to now. Not once had he had made an indecent pass at him. France had only acted like a gentleman towards him, just like how he used to act until their relationship finally met its end. He almost would admit it; he missed this sort of treatment from a significant other from time to time. It was just that he was so bogged down in work nowadays that he hardly had enough time to go out on a date anymore.

He had almost forgotten what it was like to be out on a date with someone.

"You and your sister do seem to like ze water very much," said France, breaking the silence while they were eating. Both of them had Saumon Grillé.

"Huh?" asked England, he had been too busy day dreaming that he hadn't heard France.

"I say, zat you and your sister boz like ze water," answered France, "Paris texted me about 'is date with Londres, it was in a café along ze river."

"It is not hard to like the water if your nation is on an island and surrounded by it Francis," said England as he sipped his wine, "But yes, both of us do enjoy being by the water. Rowena enjoys the rivers whereas I prefer something bigger."

"Bigger?"

"Much bigger than a river?"

"And what would zat be?"

England smirked, "The ocean."

France blinked in surprise when he heard that. Sure, he had encountered England during his pirate days and during war times when England was on the deck of a Navy ship. The Englishman had always been fond of the water and had made it very clear to him several times that the water was just where he belonged.

"France," began England, "Do you happen to know that in literature, the ocean often symbolizes power and strength?"

"I 'ave," answered the Frenchman, wondering exactly the Englishman was going with this talk of symbolism. He didn't understand why England would bring something as trivial as that up.

"The ocean is vast, dominating," England sighed, "Just as my empire had been."

"But what of zat ocean you sound so fond of?" asked France.

England grinned, "The ocean is also known to represent something of a mystery, France. It is unpredictable, uncontrollable."

Uncontrollable was right. France could only guess how similar England was to the ocean. How the nation was just as mysterious, unpredictable and uncontrollable as the very ocean he admired.

"An ocean is hope, truth, mystery and magic all wrapped into one beautiful, unpredictable, uncontrollable package," continued England.

"I don't understand what you are saying Angleterre," said France, "May you get to ze point?"

"When we were in a relationship," England sighed, "I felt as if I had been trapped there." France blinked in surprise when he heard that. Angleterre thought that he was trapped? "You were against the very magic I was so fond of, you always yearned to keep my heart for yourself and you desired to control me."

"Boz of us wanted control," countered France.

"But you wanted control over something that I wished to never surrender entirely," quipped England.

"And what would zat be?" asked France.

"My heart."

France looked at the Englishman in confusion. So England broke up with him because he didn't want France to have full control over his heart? But wasn't that the point of a relationship? To fully give the person you love your entire heart and soul?

"But we were in a relationship," countered France, "In a relationship, you give your lover your entire heart and soul Angleterre, it is only normal zat I would want it."

"But you were trying to invade my whole heart," said England, "The heart can be portioned out to many causes, work, family, lovers. You were my lover France."

"I don't understand."

"You were attempting to control my entire heart," England sighed, "You attempted to steal me away from my work as well as my family, which is why I could not be with you."

France looked at England in surprise as the Englishman called for a server to come over. He watched as England pay the man the bill and then make his move to get up and leave. Just as he was about to go, France reached out and grabbed England's hand. The Englishman turned around and looked at him in surprise.

"But what if I can win your heart now?" he asked, "What if I can win your heart now?"

"You can't do that France."

"Why not?"

England only gave him a smile, "Because my heart belongs to my family." France's eyes widened. "You may never win my heart and you will never be able to change it. My heart belongs to my brothers, my sister and my nephews. My family is always at work with me and they will never try to control me, never try to deny me my magic and will never admit to outwardly desire my entire heart to themselves. That is why I will never be with you again France." He pulled his hand free of the Frenchman's grip. "Adieu France."

France could only watch as England disappeared out of the restaurant. He would never be able to win his English lover over again would he? The love of his Angleterre would never return to repair his broken heart ever again.

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**And we have come to the end of this story, but with an end comes a beginning. If any of you are readers of my other story "High School Experience" then you have already seen my ideas for other stories. I will be writing a Hetalia/Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji) crossover very soon. Please be sure to keep an eye out for that. **

**I wish all of you the best of luck and have a great rest of the day. If you want, please drop a review. I would love to hear from you all. **


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